


a word of encouragement

by canistakahari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Praise Kink, Virgin Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison isn’t sure what, exactly, she was expecting from college, but it wasn’t an instant live-in best friend and an immediate invitation to a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a word of encouragement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiny_glor_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiny_glor_chan/gifts).



When Allison and her dad finally arrive at the dorms there’s a sign on the door to her room that says “Welcome ALLISON ARGENT and LYDIA MARTIN!!”

Allison and Lydia had exchanged a few messages over Facebook over the summer, but when Allison’s dad unlocks the door for her, there’s no sign of Lydia in their room. It’s totally empty, so Allison puts down the box she’s holding and swipes the back of her hand over her sweaty forehead. 

“I get first dibs,” she announces, dropping her purse on the bed near the solitary window. 

“It’s a jungle out there,” says her dad mildly. “C’mon. If we bring up the rest of your boxes in the next ten minutes, we’ll have time to get a milkshake before I have to go.”

They’re done in eight. 

Allison grabs her purse, locks the door again, and they leave.

oOo

“Hey,” says Allison, surprised, when she opens the door forty-five minutes later and finds the room is no longer empty.

Far from empty, to be honest; the unclaimed half of the room is now occupied by a small red-head in a leather skirt and white blouse. In the time that Allison was gone, Lydia has not only moved all her boxes up, but she’s unpacked and decorated, too. 

“Hi,” says Lydia. She’s sitting on her bed with phone in hand, frowning at the screen. “Perfect timing. What do you want on your half of the pizza?”

Allison frowns. “I. What?”

“Pizza toppings,” repeats Lydia. “I’m ordering a pizza. I’m getting green olives and mushrooms.”

“Uh. Ham and pineapple,” says Allison. 

“Ew,” whispers Lydia, but she taps at her phone. “Okay. Done. Should be here in twenty minutes.” She smiles brightly at Allison. 

Allison smiles back.

oOo

That night, Lydia disappears to the library despite the fact that classes haven’t even started yet and Allison takes the opportunity to unpack the rest of her stuff and set up her desk, making sure her laptop can connect to the internet.

She’s considering going down to the common room kitchen to make a cup of tea when her phone rings. 

“My roommate is probably a male model in his spare time,” is the first thing Scott says to her after she answers. 

Allison gets out of her desk chair and flops onto her bed. “Tell me more.”

“Muscles,” says Scott. “Lots of them. A face that was chiselled out of marble. Sleeves aren’t really his friends.”

“Well,” says Allison. “Is he nice?”

“I don’t know,” admits Scott. “He doesn’t really talk a lot? He moved all his stuff up here and didn’t wear a shirt the entire time. And then he showered and didn’t bother putting a shirt on after that. It’s really...” his voice gets a little muffled. “Distracting.” 

“Is he in the room with you?” whispers Allison. 

“He just came back,” hisses Scott conspiratorially. “Hang on, I’m gonna just—” She can hear the various sounds of Scott getting up and leaving the room, the door clicking shut, before his voice comes back on the line at normal volume. “He just came back with take out. He didn’t even say anything, just sort of held it out at me and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Like a dog with a ball.” He pauses. “Except he probably didn’t want me to lob beef and broccoli across the room.”

“It’s nice he offered you some,” says Allison encouragingly. “My new roommate ordered pizza for us.”

“You probably ruined it with ham and pineapple,” says Scott knowingly. 

Allison sighs. “It was on _my_ half. It doesn’t affect what’s on the rest of the pizza.”

“Whatever, you have terrible taste,” says Scott. 

“I should go,” says Allison. “Dad wanted me to call him before I went to bed.” 

“Okay,” says Scott. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime?”

“Yep. Lunch, right? Bye, Scotty.”

oOo

Allison and Scott are having lunch outside at one of the picnic tables when Lydia materializes next to them with a tall, dark-haired woman on her arm.

“Allison,” says Lydia. “This is my girlfriend, Laura. She’s having a party on Friday night, and you should come.” Her eyes dart to Scott, scrutinizing him closely. “Bring your boyfriend, too.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” says Allison instantly, just as Scott says, “I’m not her boyfriend.”

They exchange rueful glances. “I mean,” says Allison. “It’s not—”

“We did date,” agrees Scott, shrugging. 

“In high school,” adds Allison, her cheeks colouring. “We’re not—”

“We’re friends,” says Scott. “That’s all.”

“Fascinating,” says Laura, examining her nails. They’re red, just like her lips, and she’s got an intensity to her being that means it hurts a little bit to look at her for too long. 

“Oooh,” says Lydia excitedly, clapping her hands. “Then we can get you _both_ laid!”

“Oh my god,” says Allison. “That’s really not necessary, Lydia.”

Scott doesn’t seem to have the same qualms. “I like dudes, too,” he pipes up, apparently just to be clear.

“There will be dudes there,” says Laura. Her gaze slides from Scott back to Allison. “Plenty of dudes. Excellent! I’m going to class.” She turns and kisses Lydia before she leaves, Lydia rising up on the toes of her heels to catch Laura’s lips. 

“Well,” says Lydia, sitting down next to Allison. “This should be fun.”

“You’ve got a little something,” says Allison, gesturing to Lydia’s face. 

Lydia purses her lips, cheeks pink, and wipes Laura’s lipstick from the corner of her mouth. “I’m Lydia,” she says to Scott. “And you’re the best friend.”

“I am,” says Scott, raising his hand. “I’m the best friend. The BFF. The bestie.”

“You’re both coming to the party, then?” says Lydia. 

“Sure,” says Allison, shrugging. She glances at Scott and he nods. 

“I have class and then tutoring,” says Lydia. “I’ll see you later. For dinner, maybe?” 

“She’s intense,” says Scott, after Lydia hurries away. He picks at his fries thoughtfully, dragging one through a puddle of ketchup. “Kind of like Derek. Except he still hasn’t said more than like five words to me. Today he said “good morning.” His eyes were still closed. I didn’t even think he knew I was there.”

“Scott,” says Allison gently. “Do you _like_ him?”

“Huh?” says Scott, peering at her. “What? No. OH. NO. No, he’s, nah. He’s gorgeous, sure, but not my type. The guy next door, though...” He cracks a goofy smile and Allison’s heart warms. 

“Yeah? What about the guy next door?”

“His name is Stiles,” says Scott. “He invited me over to play Halo last night. He has an Xbox in his room. I wanna move in and also maybe have babies with him. Or we could adopt.”

“Well, that escalated quickly,” teases Allison. 

“Yeah,” says Scott dreamily. He puts a French fry in his mouth and then forgets to chew. 

“Okay,” drawls Allison, patting Scott gently on the hand. “You should invite him to Lydia’s party. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“That,” says Scott, beaming happily, “is a _great_ idea.”

oOo

Allison isn’t sure what, exactly, she was expecting from college, but it wasn’t an instant live-in best friend and an immediate invitation to a party. It’s not something she’s particularly used to, because Allison has never spent more than a year living in the same place, both her parent’s jobs moving them all over the country and the world for the majority of her childhood. She doesn’t have close friends, beyond Scott, who she met two years ago when she moved to Beacon Hills. They dated for as long as it took to realise they weren’t into each other that way, and then stayed friends.

All her other friends live in her computer, on the other end of an instant message or an email. 

Now Lydia wakes her up with lattes and offers to drive them to the mall so that Allison can get a new bra and Allison gets judged on her affinity for Frye boots. 

“It’s not that I don’t get them, it’s that I don’t _like_ them,” says Lydia, wrinkling her nose as she watches Allison put on her boots. “Too...needlessly edgy.”

“I could kick someone in the face if I had to,” comments Allison, shrugging her shoulders and then grabbing her purse.

Lydia smiles at her sweetly and tips up a heeled foot. “So could I.”

When Friday finally arrives, Allison feels like she’s known Lydia for longer than just a week. She’s beautiful and whip-smart and, best of all, cuttingly funny, whispering comments to Allison that double her over in helpless laughter. 

The party is at Laura’s apartment, a wide-open loft just off campus. Lydia pushes open the heavy sliding door and loud music engulfs them, the beat sinking into Allison’s core. Allison hangs back, because it’s crowded and dim and the DJ’s spotlights don’t illuminate enough of the dance floor for her to feel comfortable moving away from the entrance. 

“Come on,” yells Lydia, taking her by the wrist. “I want to find Laura.”

Laura, it turns out, is hanging out by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, standing with Scott and a guy Allison is sure must be a male stripper or a museum exhibit because he’s basically been sculpted from marble and installed in the room like a work of scowling art. 

“Allison!” calls Scott, smile unfurling over his face as he holds his red plastic cup up to her. “This is Derek, my roommate.”

The maybe-not-a-male-stripper nods at her and his face in the confused lighting is sharp and imposing and impossibly beautiful so Allison gives up on looking directly at it and transfers her gaze to his well-built chest instead. 

“My eyes are up here,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. Only that action just makes his biceps bulge and Allison’s face heats up as she watches his muscles try to escape the sleeves of his polo shirt. 

“And your arms definitely exist,” blurts Allison, nodding. “Your body parts are all present and very much accounted for.”

She thinks maybe Derek is flushing, but she can’t tell in the hectic flash of coloured lights. “Thank you,” he says, sounding confused.

“You are _so_ welcome,” says Allison. She can’t control her words. His face is affecting her brain. Ridiculous. 

“Oookay,” says Laura, laughing. She pats Derek on the shoulder needlessly hard, enough to rock him forward out of his statue-like stance. “Didn’t I tell you this would be fun, baby brother? Lydia, I want to dance, come dance with me.”

Hand in hand, Lydia and Laura slip away from them and pop up in the middle of the dance floor, Laura grinding her hips into the swell of Lydia’s ass, hands gripping her hips possessively. 

Allison watches them for a moment, mesmerized, but then Scott clears his throat and says, “Oh man, it’s Stiles. He came. I’ll see you later, Allison.” He squeezes her shoulder and plants a kiss on her cheek, running to go intercept Stiles. 

“Laura is your sister?” Allison says, not because she needs the additional confirmation, but because she has no idea what else to say to Derek the Neatly Stubbled Adonis. 

“She is, unfortunately, my older sister,” says Derek, his gaze displacing into the crowd to travel over the claustrophobic crush of bodies. He shifts from foot to foot and Allison is briefly transfixed by the shift of muscles beneath his shirt. 

“I’m Allison,” she offers. Oh god. They were literally just introduced. This is officially the stupidest conversation she’s ever held with another human being. 

Derek, however, doesn’t roll his eyes or excuse himself from her presence; he just makes eye contact with her, the power of which turns her knees to jelly, and he says, “I know. And I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you, Allison.” He pauses. “Scott talks about you a lot.”

“It’s probably all lies,” she says quickly. “Unless, of course, the things he says are good. Then it’s all completely real and undiluted truth.”

“Of course,” replies Derek, his lips twitching like he’s about to smile but forcibly stops himself. For a moment, he seems to flounder desperately, and it’s kind of endearing that someone so unbelievably attractive doesn’t seem to know how to successfully carry a conversation. “Scott says you’re into archery. He also said you can split an arrow down the middle with another arrow like in Men in Tights.”

Allison laughs. “He would. I’ve been competing since I was eight. I was nationally ranked by age twelve. I just joined the archery club on campus.” She hesitates. “You could... come by and see, if you wanted.”

Derek nods thoughtfully. “Okay. That would be...fun.”

“Do you want to dance?” asks Allison. Dancing would be an excuse to put her hands on his arms. Or his hips. That’s socially acceptable while dancing.

“I don’t know,” says Derek. He hesitates. “I don’t really...dance.”

“All you have to do is stand there and sway,” says Allison. She looks out over the dance floor and spots Scott and Stiles doing something awkward that could, very loosely, be defined as dancing. “Or... that.”

Derek snorts. His face is sweet when he smiles, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. Allison very quickly decides she doesn’t want to be here anymore. It’s too hard to hear and she doesn’t particularly want to dance either. 

“Hey,” she says, taking his arm. He angles his head to look down at her, arching a brow curiously. “Want to get out of here?”

“Where do you propose we go?” asks Derek. 

“It’s a surprise,” says Allison. She smiles, flush with adrenaline. “Come on.”

oOo

Allison’s arrow _thunks_ into the target a little left of centre and she scowls. “I’m not really warmed up,” she says.

“So I shouldn’t hold my breath for the Men in Tights trick,” says Derek. 

She huffs and draws again, correcting her posture before she lets the arrow fly. It hits the target dead-centre. 

It’s intimidating, doing this with Derek standing right there, leaning against the wall in his leather jacket and too-tight jeans, even though she’s the one that wanted to show off like this. Her palms are sweaty and she’s incredibly aware of Derek’s eyes on her as she selects a new arrow. 

“Maybe you should try,” offers Allison. 

“I’ve never used a bow before,” says Derek. “It’ll probably end up in the ceiling or I’ll break a window. I’m happy just watching you.”

Allison turns to grin at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh really.”

It’s cute, how the tips of his ears turn pink and his brow furrows. “I... no. I meant—” When he frowns unhappily, the corners of his mouth turn down in a perfect C shape. 

“I know what you meant,” she teases. “Now come here.”

Derek pushes off the wall and comes over to take Allison’s place, his gaze following her movements as she puts the bow in his hands. 

“You’re right handed, right?” At Derek’s nod, Allison manipulates his grip, deriving a certain degree of pleasure from how Derek is like a poseable statue, his hands and feet staying exactly where she puts them. “Half-step back, good. That’s good. You don’t need to be so stiff, though.”

Derek just breathes steadily and lets the opportunity for an innuendo-laden joke quietly pass them by as Allison instructs him. 

“Imagine there’s a string pulling at your elbow as you draw,” murmurs Allison. “While your biceps are impressive, they’re not the only muscles you use in archery. Your elbow should end up level with your ear. Lock your other elbow. Good.”

She thinks she might imagine Derek’s little shiver. “Perfect. Nice t-shape, nice straight spine. Okay, loose it.”

Derek lets out a breath as he fires and his arrow whistles through the air and solidly hits the outermost ring. 

Allison shrieks and claps her hands together, grabbing Derek by the shoulder and leaning up to kiss his cheek. “You hit the target!”

“Barely,” mutters Derek, shuffling his feet as he relaxes his posture.

“That’s a pretty damn fine first ever shot,” chides Allison, nudging him. “You got a point. That’s great!”

The tips of Derek’s ears are pink again. “Thanks,” he huffs. “You’re easily impressed.”

Allison beams.

oOo

**lydiamartin** : where are you? nobody has seen you for hours, are you okay?

 **allisonargent** : omg i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m with derek. we’re getting burgers at the place near our dorm

 **lydiamartin** : oh my god  
 **lydiamartin** : you’re on a date  
 **lydiamartin** : with derek  
 **lydiamartin** : i have to tell laura about this

 **allisonargent** : you’ve seen his arms, right  
 **allisonargent** : and the entire rest of him  
 **allisonargent** : i didn’t just make him up

 **lydiamartin** : he’s real, tragically  
 **lydiamartin** : this is amazing

 **allisonargent** : what?

 **lydiamartin** : i just won twenty dollars

 **allisonargent** : i’m glad you believe in me  
 **allisonargent** : but seriously  
 **allisonargent** : it’s like he was chiselled out of a solid block of marble

 **lydiamartin** : he eats a lot of protein

oOo

Derek Hale looks like he stepped right out of a sexy fireman calendar and his cheekbones could probably cut glass, but his kisses are hesitant and soft, the hand he curls in Allison’s hair tentative.

There isn’t even the slightest hint of tongue. Allison is weirdly charmed and her face is so red she’s probably glowing. She could illuminate the entire campus. She’s smiling so hard it hurts. 

“You should meet me for lunch tomorrow,” she says, adjusting the collar of his jacket as they break apart. 

“When should I do that?” asks Derek, clearing his throat. 

“12.30,” says Allison decisively. “Right here.”

“Are you sure?” says Derek. It’s like he’s giving her a chance to back out. Like he’s helpfully offering her an escape route. 

So Allison laughs right in his face, repeats the time she wants to meet for lunch, and turns him around and sends him home.

oOo

The next morning, Allison sleeps through her alarm and wakes up with exactly fifteen minutes before her first class.

“Oh my god,” says Allison, running around her room sweeping books and pens into her bag. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god—”

“Some of us,” says Lydia miserably from underneath her duvet. “Some of us don’t have to be awake for another hour. Some of us only got to sleep three hours ago.” There’s a long pause. “Some of us are still drunk.”

“Then get some water,” yells Allison. “Drink an entire glass of water!”

“Stop _talking_ ,” moans Lydia.

Allison shoves her feet into her boots and closes the door behind her as quietly as possible. She’s staring at her phone as she leaves her door, trying to remember where her class is, which is why she walks directly into a brick wall. 

No, it’s not a brick wall. It’s Derek. It’s definitely Derek. 

“Oh!” says Allison. He grabs her by the shoulders to steady her and looks furiously embarrassed at being discovered lurking around the stairwell. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m the one that wasn’t looking where I was going. What are you doing here?”

His mouth twists, like he’s just swallowed a lemon. “...I was waiting.”

“You’re a little early for lunch,” says Allison, smiling. 

Derek’s face goes bright red. “That’s not... I know. I wasn’t—” He cuts himself off and takes a breath. “That was creepy. I didn’t have your number so I couldn’t text you.” He holds up a folded paper bag. “But I brought you breakfast.”

Allison takes the bag, unfolding it to look inside. There’s a croissant sandwich wrapped in wax paper, and a little cup of fruit. When she lifts her head, Derek is gone. 

And Allison is still late.

oOo

She manages to slip into class just as lecture is starting, taking a seat in the back row near the door so that she doesn’t draw excess attention to herself. It also means she can eat the croissant Derek brought her without anyone looking at her.

Except for the guy sitting one seat over, apparently. 

“Sorry if I’m making noise,” she whispers. “I slept through my alarm and missed breakfast.”

“Hey,” he says. “I’m not judging. You’re Allison, right?”

“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re Stiles. Scott’s Stiles.”

“I—well, yeah, I guess,” says Stiles, his cheeks flushing red. “I’m also my own Stiles.”

Allison smothers a laugh. “Sorry. I just didn’t actually get to meet you last night. I ditched pretty early.”

“Scott said you left with his roommate. Or a statue. Not sure which, he wasn’t really all that clear.”

“Kind of both,” admits Allison. “Are you majoring in history too, or is this just an elective?” 

“Majoring,” says Stiles. “I enjoy learning gruesome facts and also ensuring I will be utterly unemployable after I graduate unless I immediately pursue post-graduate education. Did you know there’s an entire class devoted to the black plague? You better believe I’m registered for it.” He pauses, chewing on the end of his pen. “I’m possibly the only person registered for it, let’s be reasonable.” 

“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised,” says Allison. “I’d probably take it if all my electives weren’t taken up by French. It’s my minor.”

“Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” says Stiles promptly. 

“Thanks, Magritte,” replies Allison. 

Stiles grins at her. 

During the break, Stiles disappears to get some food, and Allison pulls out her phone and texts Scott. 

**allisonargent** : guess who’s my new bff

 **scottmccall** : you mean besides me right

 **allisonargent** : haha  
 **allisonargent** : I’m sitting next to stiles :)  
 **allisonargent** : we bonded  
 **allisonargent** : also can I please have derek’s number  
 **allisonargent** : you must have it

 **scottmccall** : I might  
 **scottmccall** : what’s in it for me ;)

 **allisonargent** : I don’t tell stiles that you [redacted]

 **scottmccall** : wow you don’t play fair at all  
 **scottmccall** : 555 678 9457

 **allisonargent** : he brought me breakfast

 **scottmccall** : you should marry him

 **allisonargent** : haha shut up

“I got Doritos for you, too,” says Stiles, stepping over Allison’s legs and dropping a bag into her lap. He keeps the other four bags for himself.

Allison takes a picture of the Doritos, captions it “stiles bought me a present, we’re tight now” and sends it to Scott.

oOo

Derek is waiting for her after class just outside the dorm, leaning up against the main entrance, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Hi,” says Allison, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast. That was sweet.”

“Lydia said you liked croissants,” says Derek. 

Allison raises her eyebrows. “You talked to Lydia?” 

“I—no,” says Derek, a hint of panic in his eyes. “I mean. Yes. I have, in the past, talked to Lydia. This is painful,” he groans. “I’m sorry. I’m not—very good at this.”

“Talking to humans?” suggests Allison helpfully. 

Derek winces. “Dating.”

“It’s okay,” says Allison gently. “Did you ask Lydia what to get me for breakfast?”

“Yes,” says Derek reluctantly.

“That’s still sweet. Do you want to end this part of the conversation and go to lunch now?” asks Allison. 

“Yes please,” says Derek, taking her arm. 

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” says Allison. “What about you?”

“I’m always in the mood for pizza.”

oOo

“Why don’t you live with your sister?” asks Allison, stripping her shirt off over her head. She kneels on her bed in just her bra, skirt, and tights.

“I...” Derek swallows and deliberately transfers his gaze from Allison’s chest to her face. “What?” His brow knits. “Why are you talking about my sister right now?” 

“You live with Scott,” says Allison, catching Derek by his belt loops and tugging him to the edge of the bed. “But Laura lives in that big loft. Why don’t you live with her?” 

“It was her idea,” admits Derek, his face scrunching up. He runs his fingers cautiously through Allison’s hair, his hand curling around her bare shoulder, thumb brushing her collarbone. “She wanted me to...meet people. Make friends that weren’t family.”

“I’d say her plan worked,” murmurs Allison, running her hands up the firm, flat plane of Derek’s belly. “Don’t you think?”

She watches the bob of Derek’s throat as he swallows hard. “Yeah.”

“You should kiss me now,” says Allison, after a beat. 

Derek’s so good at following instructions. He cups her jaw and tilts her face up, leaning down to brush their lips together. It starts slow, leisurely, until Allison parts Derek’s lips with her tongue and he lets out a startled little moan and Allison _groans_ , grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him down onto the bed. 

Just like with archery lessons, Derek stays where he’s put, rolling obligingly onto his back so that Allison can straddle his hips and bend over to kiss him again and again, her hands pushing up under his shirt. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” she mumbles. 

The tips of Derek’s ears flush red. “So are you,” he retorts. He slides his hands up over the curve of her hips, stroking up her sides, until his thumbs are tucked under the elastic of her bra. 

“You can take it off,” says Allison, a little breathless. “If you want.”

Derek blinks at her slowly, his pupils dilated and his lower lip bitten red and swollen. There’s a tempting flush to his face and his hair is a mess. When he fumbles with the clasp of her bra, his hands shake. 

Allison smiles at him encouragingly, dragging her fingers through his hair, and after a moment, her bra drops to the bedspread. 

“We don’t... have to... I don’t want you to feel...pressured,” says Derek thickly. 

“I don’t,” says Allison. “I really don’t.” She pauses. “...Do you?”

“No,” says Derek firmly. “Can I...?”

“Yeah,” says Allison.

She shudders as his thumb brushes her nipple, rocking back on her heels, getting a little friction between their bodies. Derek smothers a soft sound, his eyelashes fluttering. 

Mostly they just kiss and tease and get to know each other’s bodies; Derek’s touches are soft and reverent and always cautious, like he’s afraid of doing the wrong thing. He’s absurdly gentle and determined and Allison finds herself totally and utterly charmed. 

(He also seems to set a personal challenge for himself when Allison accidentally makes him come in his jeans. He rolls them, spilling her onto her back on the bed and then spreading her thighs, using his fingers to rub her off, all without bothering to get her out of her tights.

Allison giggles all the way through it, delighted, and Derek looks briefly offended before his mouth spreads into an answering grin and he kisses her laughing mouth.)

oOo

“Laura wants us to double date,” says Lydia, two days later. They’re studying together, Lydia writing out equations on a white board while Allison mutters verb conjugations under her breath.

“I’m beginning to think Laura usually gets what she wants,” murmurs Allison, balancing a pencil on her nose. 

“Ha,” says Lydia. “Inaccurate, but amusing. Laura and I share a sense of humour and we’re both fascinated by this thing you and Derek have going on.”

“He takes direction really well,” says Allison.

Lydia laughs so hard she cries.

oOo

The thing is, he really does.

They take it fairly slow over the next few weeks, going on dates (including a double date to the bowling alley with Lydia and Laura, and then a movie night with Scott and Stiles), studying together, and screwing around as much as possible. Things never progress past a point either of them find uncomfortable, but their intimacy is always intensely Allison-focused. Sometimes Allison falls asleep after a mind-numbing orgasm and wakes up to Derek’s hard-on jabbing her in the hip and guiltily realises he never got to come the night before. When she tries to bring it up, Derek snorts or rolls his eyes and changes the subject. 

They do everything short of penetrative sex, not because they don’t want to or feel like they shouldn’t, but mostly because they get sidetracked trying everything _else_. At least, that’s how Allison views it.

Derek just takes to going down on Allison like he was made for it, eating her out with single-minded devotion, and that’s why she notices it. 

“Oh, god, _good_ , that’s good, that’s so good,” groans Allison, twisting her fingers in Derek’s hair. “That’s perfect—right there. You’re _amazing_ at this.”

Derek’s reaction to the praise is always the same: he shudders, the tips of his ears go pink, and his hips jerk down into the mattress in search of friction. 

His behaviour crystallises in Allison’s mind on the ebbing waves of a particularly good orgasm. It’s not the act that’s necessarily doing it for him—it’s the words Allison utters as he works her up. 

In fact, Derek seems to get off on the encouragement alone; has come more than once without even being touched. He’ll lift his head, mouth swollen and slick, pupils blown wide open, and Allison will breathlessly offer to return the favour and he’ll flush and murmur that it’s fine, actually, he doesn’t need help. 

“Hey,” says Allison, catching his chin one night as he turns his face away to bury it against her bare thigh. “Look at me.”

He does, too, obeys the command without a hint of complaint. It always makes Allison’s belly flip, her head buzzing with renewed excitement. He’s so sweet, so accommodating, so endlessly focused on her needs. 

“Hey,” she repeats more firmly, when his eyelashes flutter closed. “Do you want to go again? You should fuck me. If you want,” she amends.

“I want,” says Derek hoarsely. “But—”

“Talk to me,” she says gently, toying with his hair. “You spend so much time making me feel good. I can make you feel good, too.”

“You do,” says Derek. “You do. Everything you do makes me feel good. I just—I’ve never—”

“Had sex,” finishes Allison. 

Derek nods, his lips pursed. 

Allison laughs. “Derek, we’ve had a lot of sex. You realise that, right? If you can go down on me like that, then I’m pretty sure you can fuck me.”

Derek huffs, his breath puffing against her cunt and making her shiver. “I know. But it’s...it feels like a big deal. I’ve never done it before and I want to make you feel good. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“You can’t,” says Allison. “I’ll tell you what feels good, okay? You like that, don’t you.”

“Yes,” breathes Derek, his breath a little shaky. He closes his eyes and admits, “I like when you tell me what to do.” 

“Then I will,” says Allison simply. “Okay? Do you want to?”

Derek hesitates long enough that Allison is confident he’s actually thinking about it before he nods. 

Allison gets condoms and they finish undressing under the blankets, bumping elbows and knees, Allison batting Derek’s hands away to grip him by the base of the dick, rolling the condom on. 

He hisses, drawing in a sharp breath, the muscles of his belly bunching tight. Allison smoothes her palm over his chest and then rolls onto her back, pulling Derek with her. With a sigh, he crouches over her protectively, his face buried in the curve of her neck. 

“You won’t hurt me,” she reassures him, stroking the back of his neck as she tucks her knees around his hips. She jostles them a little, and Derek’s dick bumps between her legs and he grunts, entire body tensing in anticipation, but it’s Allison that ends up reaching between them to guide Derek inside her. 

“Good boy,” she whispers against his ear, gripping his neck tight, and Derek shudders from head to foot. 

“You feel so good,” Derek whispers.

“So do you,” says Allison, encouraging his slow, shallow thrusts with a rock of her own hips. “You’re so good at eating me out, I knew you’d be a good fuck. You didn’t have to worry at all, Dee. Such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Allison,” whimpers Derek raggedly. He clutches at her, his strokes gaining rhythm and speed, Allison encouraging him by locking her ankles behind his back and pulling him in deep. 

“I’m right here,” she says. “Now _fuck me_.”

oOo

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” groans Allison, pulling her duvet over her head. “It’s warm and cosy and it smells like Derek.”

Lydia sighs. “I had no idea you could smell awkwardness and judgemental scowling. The more you know. Don’t you have an essay to write?”

“Yes,” mumbles Allison, after a beat. She reluctantly pushes off the blankets and rolls onto her belly to stare at Lydia. “It’s due on Tuesday.”

“If I give you your laptop, will you stop whining?” asks Lydia tartly. 

Allison mulls it over. “Yes.”

Lydia heaves a deep, harassed sigh and goes to Allison’s desk to retrieve her computer. She drops it on Allison’s pillow and then climbs back into her own nest of blankets. Her bed is papered with equations. 

“We should order pizza,” says Allison after a moment spent watching Lydia scribble furiously into her notebook.

“It’s not even noon,” says Lydia. “They won’t deliver it.”

Allison frowns. “I could order it and then make Scott or Derek to pick it up and bring it over.”

Lydia looks up. Allison’s not positive, but the expression on her face seems vaguely impressed. “Do it.”

Allison laughs and reaches for her phone. “What do you want on your half?”

“Green olives and mushrooms,” says Lydia. 

“Ew,” whispers Allison, scrunching up her nose and laughing.

oOo

Derek brings over their pizza thirty minutes later.

Lydia rolls her eyes when he parks himself on the end of Allison’s bed like a puppy and pulls out the novel he’s reading for class. 

Allison just passes him a slice of pizza and leans in for a kiss.


End file.
